Fall From Grace
by Shadow-Ocelot
Summary: HIATUS, Sorry! - A WWII story involving the Cobras. When a young British officer gets paired with them for a secret mission she'll learn not everything is what it seems… especially in times of war.
1. prologue

This was just an idea that's been running through my head in the last month, and now that I finished my first year of college (on Tuesday) I have time to actually work on my stories. This came out of my intrigue about the Cobra team. I think they're interesting. Especially The Boss, whom I completely admire, and The Fear, who I just have a weird obsession with. It's an outside view of the team from an unlikely source, a British Socialite turned nurse and agent during WWII. The prologue isn't much, and I've been told its depressing, but I guess I'll just have to wait and see. Reviews appreciated, although I don't expect any. I write for fun, that's it.

Shadow.

**_

* * *

_**

**_Truth and Honor:_**

Fall From Grace

xXxXxXx

"In war, truth is the first casualty." Aeschylus.****

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

**1964**

**United States of America**

I wound my way through somber headstones. I imagined they had eyes- - the eyes of the dead - - and they stared up at me in their silent vigilance over the lifeless shells below their guard. I was an interloper, a disturber of the eternal rest these poor souls deserved. However, as I gazed upon the stone markers I couldn't help but wonder if they were the lucky ones after all. Their journey was over. Unfortunately, mine was just beginning.

My journey was not one of a physical sojourn. It was a trip into the past, a bloody past in which I had tried to reform over and over, tried to make amiable and glorious. Yet, you could never make fond memories of war. Even the good memories of friendship were tainted with the blood and gore of the death that had brought such companions together.

That is why I am here. Friendship and a promise.

It had been a long time since I had seen The Boss, too long I now realized. Back when everything seemed so clear we had made plans to meet again, perhaps under better circumstances. That was before The Boss was a legend, before her own country turned against her and dishonored her.

I knew deep down that this was what had happened. The woman I had known as The Joy would never have become the traitor that these Americans were now calling her. In my eyes I had always viewed her as a Goddess, a true soldier. Perhaps that had only been the invisible shining glory that a rookie sees, hanging like a divine aura around one that she or he idolizes. I'd like to believe that I hadn't imagined it though.

No matter what she was a woman to be admired for the things that she had done, the dedication for her duty that she placed above all else. People like her, whose honor and loyalty went beyond the call, were the ones that held up the world. They kept it moving with their timeless strength and quality of character even when it seemed like all was lost. What had really happened during that last mission? Why would the United States do a thing like this? I had never really liked Americans, but my encounter with Joy had given me a tolerance for them.

Not anymore.

I had tried to make myself think that they had to be at least somewhat like her, but after this I saw the truth. The Boss was one of a kind - - and her fellow countrymen were too stupid, or too jealous to see that. They would never be the kind of person she was. She was a warrior, and they were nothing but mindless drones, doing the bidding of whatever power paid more. I suppose the days of true honor have passed.

This realization depresses me.

I received the news about The Boss's death a few days ago. I had been in London meeting with my superiors when the message arrived. Immediately I took my leave, purchasing a plane ticket to America and packing a few bags. My direct superior, General Ashton, didn't take kindly to my sudden departure, but I explained the situation to him in the most simplest, and bluntest, terms I could possibly muster through my confusion.

The Boss had been one of my first superiors, and one of my dearest friends. Although that fact probably eluded her it had meant a great deal to me. It had been twenty years since I had last seen her. We'd said farewell over a drink at a command post over the German borders during the end of WWII. It was reluctant, especially on my part, but the war was over and our countries had needed us elsewhere.

I know I shouldn't be surprised by what has happened. I hoped that time would change things, but apparently I was wrong. I've been wrong about a lot of things. I suppose that disappointment is just a regularity in life.

I never thought I'd find the proper gravestone, but finally I reached my destination. Only, instead of finding the quiet place of solitude I expected I found that someone else had had the same idea. The man was younger than me, and was dressed as a soldier. There was a patch over one eye and I briefly wondered how he had received that injury. He looked very stern, but at the same time there was a sadness emanating from him that all too familiar.

After a moment I recognized him. "Hello. You must be the one they call Big Boss."

"I am." He replied slowly, then he reached his hand out in a cordial manner. "And you?"

"Tara Wickham." I took his hand, then turned back to the marker. "I kept telling myself I was going to visit, but every time I tried she was away on a mission."

"You knew her?"

I smiled softly. "A little. Not enough, but a little." With a sigh I added, "she was a true soldier, wasn't she?"

"Yes," He agreed. "She was." I saw the great degree of pain written over his face. I remembered that from what I'd heard, he had been the one that did it. He had killed her. It was an order, and of all people _I_ knew what it was like to be ordered to do something I didn't want to. Luckily I had been spared having to go through it.

It was amazing how many things I had been wrong about, my own country being one of them. Perhaps every country is as devious and malicious when it wants something. I hoped not. Otherwise the human race has no chance of sustaining themselves - - has no right to sustain themselves.

"Bloody Politics." I muttered angrily, bowing my head at the rush of memories. "You're gone not because of a real enemy, but because of politics."

"You heard what happened?" He seemed surprised.

"No, but I didn't have to. I can pretty much tell." I spat in disgust.

"Did you fight together?"

"Fight?" I blinked, then smiled. "Do I really look like a soldier?"

"Your eyes do." He said solemnly.

"That look comes with age," I replied, "and to answer your question. No, not officially. I'd pick up a gun occasionally, but for the most part I stayed back and took _notes_."

"You were a data analyst?" Not a question. A statement.

"For the Cobra team, yes. From 1943 until the end of the war. I hated those days, but what I brought out of the chaos was something not many ever get the experience. True camaraderie. They were a flawless machine. They were a rarity, and I'm proud to have witnessed even a fraction of their exploits."

"So you admired them?"

"I wanted to be them, at least for a while. Then I learned, just like me and just like you, they were human and had their hard times. They suffered and bled, but they did it _together_."

We were silent for a few minutes, both of us lost in our thoughts. "It's so damned pretty today." I murmured, almost to myself. He heard and turned his gaze on me. I elaborated. "You'd think that there would be a permanent gloom hanging over cemeteries. Wouldn't you?"

He nodded, then inquired, "so tell me how you met them. If its not too much trouble."

"It's a long story." I warned.

He shrugged. "I have nothing else planned for today."

And so I began.

* * *

Thats the prologue. Sucks, doesn't it? Sometimes I hate writing original characters because they always come off so cliche at the beginning. I guess that's because I'm used to writing original stories where I give the characters a lot of complexity that can't be explained up front. 

Sigh.

Chapter One coming whenever I get around to it. It'll go back to 1943 London where we get to meet a twenty one year old Tara and she gets to meet the Cobras.

Later.

Not that you care.


	2. the cobra's lair

****

CHAPTER ONE

THE COBRA'S LAIR

****

1943

London, England

The rain was coming down like bullets outside. The droplets hit the bus window and splattered like transparent paint on a canvas of gray. More than a few were quietly complaining about how the sudden downpour had caught them unaware, soaking them to the bone in its chill. Tara Wickham just folded her umbrella and stuck it half-way inside her bag with a sigh. This was London, what did they expect?

She didn't mind the rain. In fact, she welcomed it. In her mind rain was a lot better than what else could be falling from the sky. Luckily the newly made Lieutenant had not had to endure many of the blitz attacks. Most of the time she was out of the country, being a diplomatic liaison to other countries, or she was fortunately elsewhere. Some said she had a sixth sense about where not to be, giving her the power to avoid such air assaults.

Rubbish. Tara didn't believe in things like that. Foolish superstitions, foolish people. Tara was a child of reason. The Wickhams were a well-bred, not to mention a very well-to-do, family. When she was young her father had paid good money to send her to one of the best boarding schools for girls in the country. Not that she had learned much there, except perhaps how to braid her hair properly and how to act suitably in high-brow society.

But when Jonathon Wickham died Tara was sent to live with her uncle. Tanner Wickham was a colonel, and from the moment Tara set foot in his home she was treated no less than any man. Her education had dramatically shot up to standards befitting philosophers and intellectuals. In years Tara had been transformed from ten year old debutant material to little soldier girl. She had class, intelligence, and most of all: connections.

She was twenty one years old and already a Lieutenant. Part of that was due to her true abilities and uncanny skills. The other part was being now General Wickham's niece and god-daughter. Before she had left the base to come here she'd heard the rumors beginning regarding how that was the reason that _she_, and not one of the more qualified soldiers, had received the mission she was about to embark on. So she had never seen an actual battlefield. One had to start somewhere.

Actually, she didn't think she would really be finding herself in the middle of a firefight. Her job was simple. Well, simple compared to throwing bullets around, or having bullets thrown at her. She was what she had begun to call a "glorified war secretary." Tara Wickham was a data analyst. She'd never done the job she had been trained for, but she figured it couldn't be that hard. All she had to do was observe and report. She, herself, did not have to take part in any fighting and most likely she would be thrown in some hole somewhere. She would make no complaints about that.

She looked out the window into the dulled landscape of the city. Debris from previous blitzes littered the sidewalks and streets. Street signs were gone, purposely taken down in case the unthinkable happened and the enemy reached their soil. However, Tara could tell she wasn't even close to their destination. Knowing that she opened her bag again and dug about until she found what she was searching for. Retrieving the folders she glanced around, making sure no one was looking to see the confidential materials.

Satisfied that she wasn't being watched, Tara opened the first one and leaned back against the seat. She wanted to learn a little more about the men, and woman, that she would be working with over the duration of the next few weeks, perhaps months. She was both scared and excited at the chance to work with an actual combat team. She felt that finally her Uncle had begun to see that she was strong enough to be a warrior; however, why he chose this particular team, and this particular mission was a mystery.

The team was called the Cobras. With codenames like The Fear, The Sorrow, and The Fury, she didn't have to wonder about their experience. She hadn't heard much about them, mostly because they were one of the more secret of teams working during this second world war. Others she worked with had given her the most peculiar look when she had informed them of her new teammates. In fact, she had the distinct feeling they didn't expect her to be coming back.

She knew it was because of the enigma hanging over the Cobras. She also knew that they couldn't be all of what she had heard they were. Like the sixth sense people thought she had, some of the stories being told about the Cobras were so far-fetched she believed the mentally ill had made them up.

The bus suddenly jerked to a halt. Tara looked up again and was shocked to see she was at her stop. She shoved the folders back in her bag and threw it over her shoulder. It had stopped raining while she had been reading so her umbrella was not needed. She quickly made it to the front and climbed off. The air was dense and moist outside. It seemed to settle over her, blanketing her body in a cold sheen.

Now she wished she'd brought more than just the light sweater she was wearing. The wonders of hindsight. _Too late_. She thought, and wrapped her arms around chest. _Damn, now where's the guy that's supposed to meet me?_ She turned, her silvery eyes searching the sidewalk for any sign of a possible guide. No one seemed to be waiting for anybody.

"Shit." She cursed, leaning against a damp wall.

"Not very nice language for a lady such as yourself." Someone said. The voice was deeply accented, but she couldn't quite catch which kind from the quick statement. And she could have sworn that no one had been standing there five seconds before.

She jumped, but managed to reply, "yeah? So? What are you, my father?"

"That would be interesting, considering he's dead." The man retorted.

The smirk dropped off her face and she finally faced him. He had dark shaggy hair that hung around his face, drawing one's attention to a pair of intense eyes. They appeared to look right through her, and she felt a shiver go not up her spine, but her soul. "Who are you?" She demanded.

"You are Tara Wickham, am I correct?" He asked, ignoring her question. She could only nod dumbly. With another soul-chilling look he smiled and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Then let me introduce myself. They call me, The Fear."

She gasped. Although this knowledge didn't alleviate all the strange feelings that had somehow escaped her usually logical psyche, it did help to calm the sudden fright he had caused by knowing that small tidbit of personal information about her father. "Oh." The small sound escaped her lips even as he was stepping back.

"We're just down the street." He informed in a normal tone. He smiled again, his gaze never wavering from her. However, this time she got the feeling he wasn't looking _through_ her, but _inside_ her.

_Don't be an idiot._

He stretched out a hand. "They're waiting for us."

"All right." Tara said, and surprised herself by raising her own hand. A second shiver ran through her when they touched, but she shoved it to the back of her mind as he led her away from the bus depot.

XXX

Major Connor Skeffington straightened his jacket one more time. He was uneasy in the presence of the Cobras. He knew he was being paranoid, but it seemed as if they were always keeping some secret, some dark collaboration. It was because of the team's closeness. They shared something nobody could understand. It made those that weren't a part of it feel unwelcome.

In a way he felt sorry for the young woman that was at that moment making her way there. Another part of him actually couldn't wait to send her off. It would do her good to get out into the real world for a change. Though he wouldn't ever tell General Wickham that.

He liked Miss Tara, but she was so naïve at times. She lived within the castles in the sky. She had fancy ideas about the world, pretty and fluffy ideas. She just didn't seem to understand, even with all the hard teachings of her uncle, the way things really were. Maybe it wasn't that she didn't understand, maybe it was that she wanted the world to be perfect so much she had started to believe it. Either way, a trip with the Cobras would set those notions right.

Yet, he would feel guilty if he didn't inform her future 'teammates' of her shortcomings. "There's something I have to say about Lieutenant Wickham." He finally said, turning to the assembled group. "She's … special."

"Yes. You've already told us her commander is also family," replied a young blond woman. The Joy. She was leaning against the door-facing leading into the room. Next to her, sitting against the wall was The Sorrow, possibly the most enigmatic of the team.

"No. That's not what he means." The man said. "She's going to have a hard time adjusting." He added after a short pause. Skeffington knew that he understood and the Major nodded.

"You will try to be easy on her, won't you?" Connor asked hopefully.

"As easy as we usually are." The Joy said.

Skeffington sighed, "she'll be back in England within a week then. Just make sure its not in a body bag. She's a nice girl. She means well, she's just…" He wanted to say _not cut out for war_, but nothing came out. He was relieved when they heard a door open and a set of footsteps in the foyer outside.

The Joy stepped aside to let the newcomers in. Tara Wickham entered, The Fear close behind her. Tara was looking quite sociable as usual. Instead of army uniform she was dressed in a long brown skirt and a white sweater with a scoop neck. Her shoes were slip-ons with a one inch heel. Skeffington sighed again. She knew exactly what they were thinking about her, _socialite brat._ They would be half-right.

Poor girl.

"Major! I didn't know you were going to be here." She beamed.

"Yes. Your Uncle sent me to brief the team on the mission, and of course, to set you in your duties."

"Of course." She repeated. "Well, anyway, I'm glad you're here."

He gave one quick nod of the head before deciding to get down to business. "First, I suppose all of you need to get acquainted. Tara, have you read any of the files we gave you?"

"Just two." She admitted. "I skimmed. I'm familiar with The Fear, and The Sorrow." She glanced at each as she spoke. Skeffington took it upon himself to introduce the rest; he would leave it up to them to disclose any further information.

After that he began to discuss the mission. "We've received intelligence from France. We don't know very much. Actually they couldn't get much from the communiqué, but what they did get was very distressing. It seems the enemy has gotten hold of a new weapon. We can neither confirm or deny this information."

"You want us to meet with your contact?" The Joy assumed.

"Yes. Specifically Lt. Wickham. She speaks French fluently and can easily pass for one of them. Naturally I can't let her do this alone. What I need is for one of you to go with her, the rest of you should assist in getting our man out of Paris and back here. We need him. We need the rest of the information about this weapon. Do you think you can handle this, Tara?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I?" She said.

"Tara, you need to understand that Paris is German-occupied territory."

"Yes, I know that." She snapped, her eyes darkening. "I'm very well aware of where the Germans are."

"All right. You can handle it. I'll be getting in touch soon with your travel plans." He raised himself from the seat he had been sitting in and began to leave. "Wickham. I need you to stay here and get associated with your new team. I'll have Sherry pick up some of your things and drop them off here tomorrow. Will you let me out?"

Tara nodded. She was very unsure about staying with these people she hardly knew. It was one thing to work with them, but to stay with them until the mission… Well, she guessed that maybe it was wise to get to know them. Without a word she followed the major into the foyer.

"Do me a favor, kid," he said quietly, "whatever you do, don't mention their first data analyst. He was very much a part of them. His death is a sensitive spot. You're their third since he died. Maybe you'll be the last."

"I understand."

As she closed the door behind him he thought, _for your sake I hope you really do. _It was a big risk choosing someone like Tara as their next analyst. It wasn't just because of her inexperience, but because of her background. Unlike the Cobras, who were hard-trained soldiers, Tara was of the world of glitter. She may have been taught by the General, but underneath it all, she was still a hopeful little princess.

Yet, they had tried others, others that seemed like the type to fit right in with the Cobras. They failed. Two were killed on missions, the other quit. The one who quit said it was impossible to work with them, that they just couldn't accept him. Skeffington had begun to believe that perhaps them accepting him wasn't the problems, it was him accepting them. Tara's enthusiasm about getting to know people and treating everyone the same might just be the key to success.

It was going to be a hard road for her. First she would have to gain their trust and respect. She would have a better chance at getting their respect than their trust, and even that wasn't going to come easy. He would have to wait and see. The Paris mission had been given to them specifically because it emphasized Tara's expertise. In other words, it would probably make her look good. The hardest part would be getting in and then back out of the country, which wasn't her responsibility.

Major Skeffington didn't even want to think about what would happen if they failed this mission. If that weapon was real, and they didn't get the information to stop its completion the war would be over - - and _this_ time it wouldn't be the Germans paying for the bloodshed…

* * *

Chapter One is complete. It took me six hours last night and two this morning, but I got it done. Well, at least I got to watch The Dark Half. What did you think of the past Tara? I can't wait to start throwing things at her. Next chapter is the trip to France, or at least the beginning of it.

And for **Imuialion Belethkal** I was honored by the review. I'm awaiting your next chapter as well.

Until next time… Shadow


	3. odd girl out

Its been ... 3 years. A horribly long time, but I'm back. Way overdo and I feel terrible about it. I really didn't expect to get this chapter out now, but I did. It was all written this morning, and frankly I think it could be better. Although I believe I'll leave that up to you to decide. I was considering rewriting it, but hopefully some of my old readers are still around to give me some advice. Without further ado, because there's been too much ado already, the next installment of Fall From Grace:

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

ODD GIRL OUT

Sherry Carpenter checked the address again just to make sure she was at the right place. She was. Deep inside she wished the place had been too hard to find, which would have allowed her to go back and force someone else to come instead. She'd heard way too many stories about the Cobra Unit to be comfortable with this task. They didn't even know Sherry was on her way, and yet she was already shaking. She couldn't imagine how poor Tara was getting along. It was throwing a lamb in the middle of a bunch of tigers. The worst part was how the younger woman didn't realize what she was getting into.

Gathering her courage Sherry raised her hand and rapped on the door. She expected a member of the Cobra Unit to answer, such as the one with the eerie smile. She shivered at the mere thought of him. He made her more nervous than all the others put together. It wasn't that he was intimidating, it was – there really wasn't a word for what he made you feel.

Sherry gasped when the door swung open with an unexpected creak. "Sherry!"

It was Tara, and she was wearing the same clothes she left the base in the day before. She didn't _look_ in distress. In fact, she looked quite well. Then again she'd only been in their presence for a day. "Tara, how nice to see you!" Sherry recovered quickly, placing the bag down to give her friend a short hug. "How are you?"

"Well." Tara answered. Her eyes flickered down to the suitcase. "That mine?"

"Oh yes." Sherry handed it to her. "Connor sent me to fetch a few of your things. I picked up some of your books, too. Just in case."

"Thank you." Tara said appreciatively, smiling. With a sigh she admitted, "I probably am going to need them. I don't believe any of them like me very much, so conversation is most likely out. I guess I don't blame them, considering the way we've all been thrown together..." She trailed off, careful not to mention their first data analyst, even though none of them were around to hear her.

She had been accused of being dense many times before, but she was being quite vigilant over her actions toward the Cobra Unit. They didn't really seem as bad as everyone was trying to make them out to be. Frankly the whole calling them Heroes then acting like frightened little mice around them business was driving her nuts. She wished everyone would be more consistent in their behavior; it made them look like hypocrites.

"Oh, look at me. I've lost my manners. Come in and sit down. I just made some tea."

Sherry thought a moment, "I don't know. I should be getting back. A nurse gone even for a short period of time causes problems."

"Come on." Tara asked, "I'll be going to France soon and I don't know when I'll be back. Come in and talk for a while."

Sherry was about to give in when she looked passed the younger girl into the hallway. Her breath caught in her throat for an instant before she could finally speak again. "I really can't, Tara. I hope you understand. Enjoy your trip to Paris." She turned and hurriedly made her retreat.

Tara watched in confusion. Why was Sherry acting so peculiar? One second she's absolutely fine and the next - - bam, the paranoia bug seemed to have bit her. _Oh, well_. She shrugged to herself as she shut the door and spun around.

XXX

Unfamiliar voices downstairs brought him out into the corridor. The Fear stood silent and still as he listened to the two women conversing at the front door. The new data analyst sounded so amiably chipper even this early. Any discomfort she had felt the day before in their presence had already faded, chased away by the rising sun. And it didn't take one as psychically sensitive as the Sorrow to tell that she had been very ill at ease the previous night. He still hadn't decided if it was due to their characterized introversion or their personalities in general. Even he had to admit that sometimes the word 'freak' did describe most of them quite accurately.

He easily made his way to the staircase undetected by either of them and began to descend the stairs. Halfway down he paused, head tilting as the particular step he was on managed to allow the most interesting effect. Bright morning sunlight filtered in from above, catching Tara's long chocolate hair just right. The strands seemed to glitter, almost glow. _Even her hair is happy today._ He noted with amusement.

"—don't know when I'll be back. Come in and talk for a while." She was pleading with her friend.

The other young woman looked almost prepared to do just that until she saw him standing there. He gave her his best smile, knowing already the reaction he would receive. He remembered her from a few previous occasions and she'd always seemed so uneasy around him. Just as he predicted she refused and hurried away, leaving Tara in confusion. She only shrugged and closed the door behind her, lugging her suitcase along.

Similarly to Ms. Carpenter Tara also gave quite a start when she noticed him there. "Oh my! I didn't know you were there." She cried, her hand flitting up to her chest. Her nervous chuckling laughter filled the small foyer.

"My apologies, Lt. Wickham." He said, his eyes drifting closed for a moment as he respectfully bowed his head a few degrees. When they opened again he regarded her and her bag curiously, "will you need any assistance with your things?"

"Huh?" She was bewildered for a moment, but one quick glance to where his eyes were directed set her back on track. "Oh! No. I'll be fine, but thank you very much." She smiled brightly again. He imagined that was the way she was smiling a minute before while talking to her friend.

He came down the stairs a few more steps, no longer enraptured by the light in her hair, but rather quite keen on experimenting with just how close he could get to her. The last analyst made it a point to keep at least five to six feet between the two – as if that would have spared him if he would have gone completely crazy and snapped on him. Even now that made the Fear smile in reverie. They'd gone through a few interesting ones indeed. "Have you had breakfast yet? Today might be a very long day and you may not get another chance to eat before you depart for France."

"Really?" She asked, "I thought that we weren't leaving until tonight. I figured we would at least have dinner…" She stood for a moment, lost in thought as she considered what he'd said. While she was lost in her own mind he managed to reach the ground floor. When she came out of her thoughts she said, "Yes, I suppose. Its possible to get so wrapped up in work we don't have time to stop. Have you?" She looked up at him.

_Fascinating._ He was standing so close to her now that he could almost smell her perfume and she looked unfazed. He gave her a smile. "Not yet. I just woke."

"I see. Would you like to join me for breakfast?" It was that bright smile again. It was so cheerful it was nearly contagious. "I would really like to get to know everyone. If we're all going to be working together I should at least know a _little_ about you." She said it in such a hopeful tone.

A slight nod, "Very well."

"I'll be right back down." She gripped her suitcase tighter and started up the stairs. No doubt to go change out of the clothes she'd been wearing for nearly a day. A fourth of the way up her shoe caught on twisted. The smallest of gasps was wrenched from her throat as she tried to steady herself but failed.

Before he thought about it he had already moved, stopping her descent before she fell all the way down. Tara automatically latched onto his arm, panic spread in her eyes. She flinched as her suitcase hit the last stair and bounced to the floor, the lock snapping.

"Are you all right?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded finally as he set her back on her feet. "I'm not usually that clumsy." No, indeed she looked very graceful. A little brunette swan almost.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a voice from above. "What's going on? What's all that racket?" The Fury was standing at the top of the stairs, looking particularly miffed at the pair. Well, particularly missed at Tara.

"I'm sorry, I tripped and dropped my suitcase."

"Clumsy oaf." He muttered, barely audible to those downstairs, and then he spoke up again. "Rattling about this early! Don't you know you have a mission tonight?"

"I—"

"I thought they were sending a professional, not another dumb kid." With that he was gone, trudging back to his room. Tara looked upset at the exchange, her cheery air disappearing almost immediately as she moved passed him to go collect her things, which had managed to spill out over the floor.

"Don't worry about him." Fear said, bending to help her. "He's called Fury for a reason, although sometimes I think he forgets it's a codename and not a way of life."

She looked up at him again, and although her lips didn't move there was a smile in her eyes. "Thanks. So far you seem to be the only one who has really paid any attention to me." She tossed a couple shirts back in the suitcase, and reached for the last item, a small rectangular paper. He'd already been going for it and picked it up first.

A picture. A man and a woman standing in front of a house with flowers growing all along the front. In scrawling script a note was written on the back. _Johnny and Evelyn. 1920._

"My parents." She explained, her hand held out for it. "Before they got married."

"You look like your mother." He noted. "Same eyes."

Her gaze dropped to the floor, a shadow of gloom passed over her. "She died two years after this picture was taken."

"How did she die?"

It took her a moment to answer. "Complications in childbirth."

"I am very sorry." _She never met her mother._

"So am I." She answered, taking the picture back and stuffing it in one of her books. She still refused to meet his gaze. Without another word she scooped up the broken suitcase and hurried upstairs. Within seconds of losing sight of her he heard her bedroom door click shut.

He didn't expect to see her back down for breakfast.

XXX

It was near lunchtime when Tara attempted to show herself again. She'd already managed to look like a complete klutz in front of the Fury, and the Fear, well; he probably was off pitying her poor situation. In less than a day her professional façade was being stripped away. She hated that. She knew it was too much to ask to want them to see her as an equal, but at least useful could be all right. _I feel useless so far._ She thought drearily, making her way downstairs to the kitchen. She was starving and needed to scrounge for something before they shipped them off to Paris.

As her fingers reached for the doorknob she heard voices inside and she stopped.

"—ridiculous! They should be sending _you_, and you know it. So what this little girl is able to pretend her way through Paris." It was the Fury speaking. Tara didn't know who to.

"You know full well why they're sending her instead." A woman replied. The Joy. Tara was relieved she was there. She liked the Joy very much already. She was beautiful, intelligent and strong. She inspired hope and admiration. "I can't go and risk someone recognizing me. They needed a nobody in the field."

"Yeah, well, they got a nobody all right. The only reason she's going is because of the General. Face it; the two of you are going to be lucky if she doesn't get you killed. She can't even walk up a staircase without falling. Do you really expect her to walk through German-occupied Paris without trouble?"

"Aren't you being a little harsh, Fury?" A silky accented voice inquired. She remembered it from the night before. It was hard to mistake the soft elegance of the Sorrow.

"_War_ is harsh." The Fury countered.

"True, but you can't expect her to turn into an experienced soldier overnight. Not even we knew what we were doing when we started. At least she has some knowledge through General Wickham."

"Will you still be saying that when you're six feet under due to one of her rookie mistakes?"

"If I find myself six feet under it will be due to _my_ own mistakes, not hers." The Sorrow maintained his cool tone, but it held a caustic bite this time. A warning.

"I think we should give her a chance."

Tara's heart lifted at the sound of the Fear's voice. It was the proof that he wasn't just being kind to her face; that at least one of them liked her enough to want to see what she could do.

"And you, she seems nice now, but just wait until she sees the special abilities that got you placed in this team. She'll react just like the rest of them. You'll see. No one else will say it, but I will. She's just like the _rest_."

Tara couldn't take listening to anymore of it. She backtracked quietly to halfway up the stairs and made her way down again, each step heavier than normal. She wanted them to know she was coming to avoid any awkward feelings. It would be best if they didn't know she'd heard anything. "Hello everyone." She greeted, smiling. "I'm not late am I?"

* * *

Well, that's it for now. R&R. I'll hopefully be back soon, and a lot sooner than last time.

P.S. HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYBODY!

**Next Chapter:** They finally make it to France, I promise! And will they find their contact with the new weapon information or be lost in the chaos of German-occupied Paris?


End file.
